


Crazy Wonderful

by everydreamday



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Children, Flashback on lives, Grandchildren, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Old Louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 05:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6598912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydreamday/pseuds/everydreamday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis pays his husband the greatest tribute he can think of; telling their grandchildren their story. Of Harry's unwavering support and unyielding love, of Louis' struggles and dark times. How Louis spent years battling to get his mental illness under control, and how Harry spent just as much time not only saying but truly believing Louis was worth it. Everybody had always called Louis insane and mental, but only Harry could see that he was as every bit as wonderful as he was crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

"I thought you'd be more upset." Old blue eyes flickered down to find young hazel ones staring back. The man raised an eyebrow, pushing the wrinkles on his forehead closer to his grey hair. He suspected the boy sat on his left hadn't meant to say anything out loud, if the wide eyes were anything to go by.   
"At home I have my jigsaw puzzle." He began quietly, and had to stop himself from chuckling as he saw the expression on the lad's face; politeness masking the weariness.  
The little lad obviously thought he was off his rocker. Although hat wasn't actually anything to do with age; there had always been a little bit too much crazy behind his blue eyes.

_Just crazy enough_.

Wrinkles deepened as he smiled at the echo of those words inside his head, familiar and gentle. He could hear the low murmer, the deep humour, could still feel the warmth from them. He probably did look like he was crazy with that far-away look on his face; hazy smile and distant eyes.   
A cough from somewhere behind them brought him back to the room with its stiff, heavy air. He was tempted to stand up and laugh or jump and shout, to do something. This wasn't how he wanted it, so stuffy, so still.   
He felt his stubbornness; even after all these years he still couldn't decide if it was biggest asset or greatest flaw, rise up- stopping the recollection, or at least put it on pause. He could salvage a little bit of it. Talking about it seemed right, and the young pair of ears listening might be confused but eager.   
"Well as of this morning, a piece is missing. I can trace around the emptiness, I can feel the space where the piece is supposed to go. But I've had it whole for so many years that my memory fills that space. I can't say its the same as having the puzzle complete because it's not, but its still whole where it matters." He tapped his fingers on his temple.  
 "I'm not making much sense am I?" Both heads shook gently together, mirroring smiles showing their amusement.   
  
"Mr Tomlinson... Would you like to share a few words?" Old blue eyes darted up to the middle-aged woman who was standing above them all, wearing a solem expression. It was only experience that comes from age which allowed him to exercise some self control and hide his irritation. He shouldn't be mad at others' melancholy, but he felt like it was an intrusion somehow.

"Our entity made words redundant a long time ago and even the attempt will be far too intricate for anyone else to comprehend." He felt a satisfaction as the woman frowned, trying to work out if that was a yay or nay. He wondered if there were any minds present observant enough to find his possessiveness with that statement.   
He was plenty old enough now not to have to bow his head to hide his smirk, but habit forced the motion anyway as faces flashed in his mind from years ago that meant nothing to him now but once upon a time haunted him. Their words of how he wasn't smart enough, how he'd never come to anything, had inflicted wounds he'd carried around for too long. And while they had closed up and were healed, he still  relished in the fact he'd proven them all wrong. Smug had always been a good look on him.   
"He's good, thanks." 

He watched those hazel eyes radiate an easy and calm manner, making the woman comfortable. He was all too familiar with that genuine kindness, was glad to see the trait had been passed on. He felt a wave of pride wash over him. The woman gave him a patronising smile, fake and empty, before continuing. They shared a glance.   
"See, when you're old you don't have to do that anymore. Give all those pretend smiles and fake etitqutes because you feel society makes you obliged to. When you're as old as me everybody knows what it is and what it means and what it doesn't mean. Old people have done enough of that, we're too old to care. That's why everyone thinks we're difficult and crabby."  
"That might be true, but I suspect you were like that well before you got old." The boy replied. Old wrinkly skin wrinkled even more as he scrunched up his face, a chuckle actually sneaking its way out this time.  
"Shhh!" He ignored whoever it came from.  
 He saw the young face dim, like a cloud passing in front of the sun. He felt his heart tug. The likeliness was uncanny. His response too, he felt the urge to bring back the shine, just as he always had with the sunshine's predecessor.

"What's wrong?"   
"Have people always thought themselves above you because of your... your mental stability?" The whole conversation had been exchanged in whispers, but a darker tone crept in, and he couldn't lie to that face, a contradiction of naivety and wisdom.   
"A lot of people, yeah. You read people well. You see so much." And somehow his voice had darkened slightly too, not with worry but with a warning perhaps, a warning to be cautious. How would the boy understand if he himself didn't understand his meaning?  
"Like you." His throat tightened. He could only nod.   
"Is that... Is that what made you crazy?" Those desperate eyes were begging for an honest answer.   
"It didn't help. That's for certain." That was the truth. His ability to read people hadn't been the cause of his mental illness but it certainly enhanced the paranoia and the obsessions.

"Is the puzzle a bit of your crazy?" He turned at the new voice, coming from the girl sitting on his right. She looked indifferent but he could hear the intrigue in her voice. She'd definitely been listening, sneaky little git. He felt a flood of affection for her.   
"It was a part of it. A really big part of helping me. Then when I was better, or better enough I should say, it acted as a reminder to us." He'd put it together, taken it apart, stared at it so much, he knew every piece individually.  
"I still can't believe you took a piece of it."  
"I know. I think it's literally the one thing growing up we weren't allowed touch." Two other voices chimed, sharing a look mixed of childhood memories, secretly being pleased that he seemed to be holding up ok, and more than a hint of concern.  
"But it's still whole isn't it?" The delightful child tapped her fingers against her temple, mimicking his earlier motion.  And this is why he wanted to have these munchkins sat with him. They weren't tiptoeing on eggshells around him, waiting to see if he'd break. They cared, were actually interested in his memories.   
  
"I don't think I've ever heard a more inappropriate distraction." Old blue eyes narrowed, sparkling with brewing anger, this was a voice he didn't recognise. He didn't appreciate the tone; it held judgement, cold and condescending. He turned behind him.   
The face was vaguely familiar, she wasn't from his side. Who did she think she was? Did she think she was more entitled to have this whole thing her way? Because of blood? Well there was plenty of that sitting around him.   
"Excuse me? Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? If talking about my being an absolute nutter helps my grandchildren and my children get through my husband's funeral then that is what I'm going to fucking well do." He only saw flushed cheeks for a moment before an exsparated groan coming from the other side of the room caught his attention.

Apparently when he'd turned to put that snobby woman in her place he'd stood up. He hadn't realised that. He still had his flare for drama then.   
"I can't believe I lost!" He was scanning a small sea of faces, looking for the owner of that sigh, that accent. He couldn't believe he'd heard it.   
"Get ready to pay up Horan."   
"I hate you Malik."   
"Both of you are ridiculous." He couldn't find the faces because, he was still picturing them at twenty, thirty years old. He found them, sitting together at the back, despite the occasion all three of them had matching grins. Skin might be a bit saggier, hair much greyer, but they were the same eyes he'd known for years.  
"What was the bet?" He asked, hands clasping together, ignoring his son scattering silent apologies to the rest of the crowd, ignoring his daughter face-planting into her hand. Really, he thought he'd raised them better than that. They shouldn't care about what other people think, not today. They shouldn't feel the need to be embarrassed.   
"How long it would take before you mouthed off." And damn, Zayn could still smirk.

"Uncle Li you were a part of this?"   
"No! I bet your father would keep his tongue in check."   
"If it makes you feel any better laddie we had another one, in case it was this old git who went first."   
"What was that?"   
There was a loud bang, the vicar had loudly slapped her hand on the wooden frame of her stand.  Ahh, so it was her who had been annoyingly clearing her throat.   
"We'll talk later." He sat back down, I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about look on his face as he held out his hand, a gesture for the vicar to carry on. It was possible, probable even, that everyone in the room was feeling awkward, save for him and his best friends and his grandchildren sat either side of him, who each received a wink from blue eyes that were bright again, the corners of their mouths twitching up in mischievous smiles that matched his.

Let everyone else be shocked and scandalized, he thought, feeling a warm tug pull at his worn heart-strings. He had his children, his little munchkins of grandchildren and his three best mates. Nobody else mattered. Actually, one other person mattered, mattered the most.   
And Louis knew without a single, fleeting doubt, feeling a tear escape and his grandchildren squeezing his arms with tight, reassuring reassuring grips, Harry would have loved every second of it.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

"I thought you'd be more upset." Old blue eyes flickered down to find young hazel ones staring back. The man raised an eyebrow, pushing the wrinkles on his forehead closer to his grey hair. He suspected the boy sat on his left hadn't meant to say anything out loud, if the wide eyes were anything to go by.   
"At home I have my jigsaw puzzle." He began quietly, and had to stop himself from chuckiling as he saw the expression on the lad's face; politeness masking the weariness.  
The little lad obviously thought he was off his rocker. Although hat wasn't actually anything to do with age; there had always been a little bit too much crazy behind his blue eyes.   
Just crazy enough.  
Wrinkles deepened as he smiled at the echo of those words inside his head, familiar and gentle. He could hear the low murmer, the deep humour, could still feel the warmth from them. He probably did look like he was crazy with that far-away look on his face; hazy smile and distant eyes.   
A cough from somehwere behind them brought him back to the room with its stiff, heavy air. He was tempted to stand up and laugh or jump and shout, to do something. This wasn't how he wanted it, so stuffy, so still.   
He felt his stubornness; even after all these years he still couldn't decide if it was biggest asset or greatest flaw, rise up- stopping the recollection, or at least put it on pause. He could salvage a little bit of it. Talking about it seemed right, and the young pair of ears listening might be confused but eager.   
"Well as of this morning, a piece is missing. I can trace around the emptiness, I can feel the space where the piece is supposed to go. But I've had it whole for so many years that my memory fills that space. I can't say its the same as having the puzzle complete because it's not, but its still whole where it matters." He tapped his fingers on his temple.  
 "I'm not making much sense am I?" Both heads shook gently together, mirrorring smiles showing their amusement.   
  
"Mr Tomlinson... Would you like to share a few words?" Old blue eyes darted up to the middle-aged woman who was standing above them all, wearing a solem expression. It was only experience that comes from age which allowed him to exercise some self control and hide his irritation. He shouldn't be mad at others' melancholy, but he felt like it was an intrusion somehow.  
"Our entity made words redundant a long time ago and even the attempt will be far too intricate for anyone else to comprehend." He felt a satisfaction as the woman frowned, trying to work out if that was a yay or nay. He wondered if there were any minds present observant enough to find his possessiveness with that statement.   
He was plenty old enough now not to have to bow his head to hide his smirk, but habit forced the motion anyway as faces flashed in his mind from years ago that meant nothing to him now but once upon a time haunted him. Their words of how he wasn't smart enough, how he'd never come to anything, had inflicted wounds he'd carried around for too long. And while they had closed up and were healed, he still  relished in the fact he'd proven them all wrong. Smug had always been a good look on him.   
"He's good, thanks."    
He watched those hazel eyes radiate an easy and calm manner, making the woman comfortable. He was all too familiar with that genuine kindness, was glad to see the trait had been passed on. He felt a wave of pride wash over him. The woman gave him a patronising smile, fake and empty, before continuing. They shared a glance.   
"See, when you're old you don't have to do that anymore. Give all those pretend smiles and fake etitqutes because you feel society makes you obliged to. When you're as old as me everybody knows what it is and what it means and what it doesn't mean. Old people have done enough of that, we're too old to care. That's why everyone thinks we're difficult and crabby."  
"That might be true, but I suspect you were like that well before you got old." The boy replied. Old wrinkly skin wrinkled even more as he scrunched up his face, a chuckle actually sneaking its way out this time.  
"Shhh!" He ignored whoever it came from.  
 He saw the young face dim, like a cloud passing in front of the sun. He felt his heart tug. The likeliness was uncanny. His response too, he felt the urge to bring back the shine, just as he always had with the sunshine's predaccesor.   
"What's wrong?"   
"Have people always thought themselves above you because of your... your mental stabablity?" The whole conversation had been exchanged in whispers, but a darker tone crept in, and he couldn't lie to that face, a condradiction of niavety and wisdom.   
"A lot of people, yeah. You read people well. You see so much." And somehow his voice had darkened slightly too, not with worry but with a warning perhaps, a warning to be cautious. How would the boy understand if he himself didn't understand his meaning?  
"Like you." His throat tightened. He could only nod.   
"Is that... Is that what made you crazy?" Those desperate eyes were begging for an honest answer.   
"It didn't help. That's for certain." That was the truth. His ability to read people hadn't been the cause of his mental illness but it certainly enhanced the paranoia and the obsessions.   
"Is the puzzle a bit of your crazy?" He turned at the new voice, coming from the girl sitting on his right. She looked indifferent but he could hear the intruge in her voice. She'd definately been listening, sneaky little git. He felt a flood of affection for her.   
"It was a part of it. A really big part of helping me. Then when I was better, or better enough I should say, it acted as a reminder to us." He'd put it together, taken it apart, stared at it so much, he knew every piece individually.  
"I still can't believe you took a piece of it."  
"I know. I think it's literally the one thing growing up we weren't allowed touch." Two other voices chimed, sharing a look mixed of childhood memories, secretly being pleased that he seemed to be holding up ok, and more than a hint of concern.  
"But it's still whole isn't it?" The delightful child tapped her fingers against her temple, mimicking his earlier motion.  And this is why he wanted to have these munchkins sat with him. They weren't tiptoeing on eggshells around him, waiting to see if he'd break. They cared, were actually interested in his memories.   
  
"I don't think I've ever heard a more inappropriate distraction." Old blue eyes narrowed, sparkling with brewing anger, this was a voice he didn't recognise. He didn't aprriciate the tone; it held judgement and condescendment. He turned behind him.   
The face was vaguely familiar, she wasn't from his side. Who did she think she was? Did she think she was more entitled to have this whole thing her way? Because of blood? Well there was plently of that sitting around him.   
"Excuse me? Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? If talking about my being an absolute nutter helps my grandchildren and my children get through my husband's funeral then that is what I'm going to fucking well do." He only saw flushed cheeks for a moment before an exsparated groan coming from the other side of the room caught his attention.   
Apprarently when he'd turned to put that snobby woman in her place he'd stood up. He hadn't realised that. He still had his flare for drama then.   
"I can't believe I lost!" He was scanning a small sea of faces, looking for the owner of that sigh, that accent. He couldn't believe he'd heard it.   
"Get ready to pay up Horan."   
"I hate you Malik."   
"Both of you are ridiculous." He couldn't find the faces because, he was still picturing them at twenty, thirty years old. He found them, sitting together at the back, despite the occasion all three of them had matching grins. Skin might be a bit saggier, hair much greyer, but they were the same eyes he'd known for years.  
"What was the bet?" He asked, hands clasping together, ignoring his son scattering silent apologies to the rest of the crowd, ignoring his daughter faceplanting into her hand. Really, he thought he'd raised them better than that. They shouldn't care about what other people think, not today. They shouldn't feel the need to be embarrassed.   
"How long it would take before you mouthed off." And damn, Zayn could still smirk.   
"Uncle Li you were a part of this?"   
"No! I bet your father would keep his tongue in check."   
"If it makes you feel any better laddie we had another one, in case it was this old git who went first."   
"What was that?"   
There was a loud bang, the viccar had loudly slapped her hand on the wooden frame of her stand.  Ahh, so it was her who had been annoyingly clearing her throat.   
"We'll talk later." He sat back down, I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about look on his face as he held out his hand, a gesture for the viccar to carry on. It was possible, probable even, that everyone in the room was feeling awkward, save for him and his best friends and his grandchildren sat either side of him, who each recieved a wink from blue eyes that were bright again, the corners of their mouths twitching up in mischevious smiles that matched his.  
Let everyone else be shocked and scandalled, he thought, feeling a warm tug pull at his worn heart-strings. He had his children, his little munchkins of granchildren and his three best mates. Nobody else mattered. Actually, one other person mattered, mattered the most.   
And Louis knew without a single, fleeting doubt, feeling a tear escape and his grandchildren squeezing his arms with tight, reassuring reassuring grips, Harry would have loved every second of it.   
  



End file.
